Forgive Me Love
by 22705
Summary: Set between WITW and PITH...the cool-headed Dr. Temperance Brennan finds herself briefly unable to compartmentalise.


**Set between Wannabe In The Weeds and The Pain In The Heart. (Yes, these episodes were an age ago, but here in the backwaters known as Australia, we got them around a fortnight ago.)**

**I do not own any of the following: The concept of Bones (Hart Hanson, Kathy Reichs .,), the characters contained within this story (Emily Deschanel and David Boreanaz – unfortunately!) or 'Forgive Me Love' by Alanis Morrisette. When I first heard this song (it's the bonus track on Jagged Little Pill for anyone who goes looking) it sounded very much like a 'death of a lover' song…reading the lyrics I realised it was a 'dumped by lover' song, but I prefer my interpretation. :D**

**I tend to have formatting issues. Forgive me for that.**

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Doctor Temperance Brennan was, by all accounts, a rational human being. She rarely let emotions cloud her judgement, and she prided herself on her ability to compartmentalise.

So why, every time she heard footsteps approach her office door, did her breath catch? It was ridiculous. Apart from the fact that she could easily tell _his_ footsteps apart from anyone else's, why should she care who came into her office?

But she did. Try as she did NOT to care, she cared. When had that happened?

Just for a second, Brennan sat back in her chair, and shut her eyes.

Jasper. Brainy Smurf. Midnight visits with containers of Wong Fu's finest. Rescuing her from Kenton. Rescuing her from the Gravedigger. Being blown up by her fridge. Shooting a clown. Epps. Arresting her father. Admitting that she could have killed Kirby, to help get her father acquitted. Guy hugs. The mistletoe kiss. The Christmas tree. The way his eyes softened when he looked at her.

How could she have dismissed all this? She hadn't thought to make the most of all these moments…and yet, she could remember them all perfectly. Every single time that he had made her smile, made her eyes light up, made her heart beat a tiny bit faster…the change so minuscule that she hadn't even noticed it until now…when she knew it would never happen again. Because he was gone. Now there would be no more soft looks, no more 'charm smiles', no more guy hugs, no more bickering over trivial things. No more of the moments where he made her feel like the only person in the room.

And it was this last realisation, more than the others, that made Temperance Brennan stand up from her chair, a desperate, sobbing gasp escaping her as she grabbed her keys and bolted from the lab, not noticing Angela's tear-reddened eyes watching her from the platform where she sat in silent companionship with the two boys.

It was only when Brennan pulled up outside Booth's apartment that she emerged from the trance-like state she had been in since leaving her office. She wondered how she had managed to get her without killing herself or an innocent pedestrian, then shook her head to focus on…what was she focusing on? Why was she here?

Without really paying attention to where she was going, Brennan walked up to the front door of Booth's apartment, vaguely registering the fake rock sitting beside the door. After several moments contemplating the door-knob, she plucked the key from underneath the rock and used it to enter the apartment.

_I went to your house,  
Walked up the stairs,  
I opened your door without ringing the bell,  
I walked down the hall,  
Into your room,  
Where I could smell you.  
And I.  
Shouldn't be here,  
Without permission.  
Shouldn't be here._

Although she knew that she shouldn't have come, definitely shouldn't be trespassing (it wasn't breaking and entering if you have a key, the logical side of her brain awoke long enough to point out), for some strange reason, she knew she couldn't just turn around and walk out.

Booth's apartment. His sanctuary. Hers was her office, his, definitely his home. His office at FBI headquarters was clean, sure, it had scattered personal touches, but this…THIS was clearly where Booth felt most comfortable. She stopped still as she realised that in the three years they had worked together, she had never been in his apartment. He had been to hers, more times than she could count, but she had never been here…was it because she had never been invited? Or had she really been that distant that she wasn't as comfortable invading his space as he was invading hers?

She wandered slowly around the living area, occasionally stopping to touch something, a 'treasure' that he had displayed. Ran her hand over the cologne bottle sitting next to his bathroom sink. However, when she reached the door of his bedroom and saw the night-stand, with two photo frames on it, she stopped dead. The first was of Parker, a cheeky grin on his face, suggesting that whatever was clutched in his hand was not supposed to be there. Brennan quickly averted her eyes from this, before she could dwell on the fact that this little boy, who saw his father infrequently enough, would now never really know him. As she moved her gaze, it fell onto the second photo frame, and her heart stopped. It was a photo of Booth…and her. Together. Brennan recognised her outfit, and realised it had been taken the day the lab closed for Christmas, several months before. After the kiss. She could remember every second of that day. Angela had insisted on taking photos of 'the family' as she had called them. Booth's arm was slung around her with an easy familiarity, and yet the way his hand closed over her shoulder looked a little possessive. Brennan was leaning into him, and laughing. But it wasn't the photo. It was the fact that he kept a photo of her, next to a photo of his son. The only two photographs displayed in the room. The first things he saw in the morning.

It was this that broke her. Another choked breath escaped her as she slowly crawled up onto the bed, curling up in the foetal position in the centre. No tears rolled down her cheeks. It was too far along for that. The time when she could have shed tears for him, had passed over two years ago. She was in far too much pain now to cry. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her body and rocked, drawing in deep, shuddering breaths.

_Would you forgive me love?  
If I danced in your shower?  
Would you forgive me love?  
If I laid in your bed?  
Would you forgive me love?  
If I stay all afternoon_

Sometime later, much later, when shadows danced across the bed, Temperance stood up, straightening her clothes and smoothing her hair. She took a deep breath and resolved herself for what was to come. It would be difficult. To everyone else, they had just been partners. Up until now, that was all she thought they had been. But he hadn't thought that for a long time. That was clear to her now. Now. Now that it was too late to analyse her feelings, actions, thoughts…there was no point now. He was gone.


End file.
